Chop (an acrostic poem)

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Cutting wood and working up a sweat

He fell into a rhythm that made the job almost pleasurable

Only his hands, his back, and his arms would claim otherwise

Perhaps it wasn’t pleasurable at all

Rail (an acrostic poem)

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Reaching from one horizon to the other

A pair of dull gray arms hug the hard-compacted earth underneath

Iron spikes cement the bond of their timeless relationship

Lasting valentine to the age of steam

Pout (an acrostic poem)

 

Putting her lip out as far as it could go as the arms cross in front

Observe the slight tremble at the corner of her left eye where a tear threatens

Unless I am mistaken she has perfected the pose

The only question is how long till I capitulate?

 

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Flying (an acrostic poem)

Floating through the air

Laughing with unadulterated joy

Yielding finally to gravity, you fell

Into my waiting arms

Now you soar without me needing to catch you

God, I miss that job

 

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Pretty (a 100 word story)

Lincoln believed he was very confident in who he was, but still had this aching desire to be called pretty by someone.  Hell, anyone.  He was called many things, but never that magical word.

Finally, after a long time of searching everywhere, he finally heard the words, “You are pretty, Lincoln.”  It put such a huge smile on his face.

He wished he could have hugged the man in the mirror who said it, but instead he wrapped his arms around himself.  It might not be much, but it was a start.

He had to be the first to believe.

 

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